


The Art of Laughing and Loving

by grouchydragon



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Dirty Jokes, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Post Series, Swearing, because rhysand, local married couple spotted being adorable, tbh they deserve a break, the oc is minor i swear guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grouchydragon/pseuds/grouchydragon
Summary: Rhys is at an art gallery where he comes across a painting resembling certain...bits of the male anatomy. It's also the talk of Valeris.Fortunately, Feyre is there to help make viewing it a good time anyway.





	The Art of Laughing and Loving

Rhys liked to think he could somewhat understand art. He’d spent enough time alive to garner an appreciation for it. Granted, most of his time had been spent fighting, so there hadn't been a ton of time to study the intricacies of brushwork or symbolism. But you pick up a few things over the centuries.

This painting however, had him stumped.

The colors were bright and favored the warm side of the color wheel. He had to admit they were blended rather well with each other (the only thing he could comment on with any authority really). The brushwork was a mix of every type with no rhyme or reason. The shapes were abstract (with one being on the squiggly side, like the artist hadn't planned on including it but thought “fuck it” halfway through) and overlapped haphazardly. 

There was a fine line between bad and brilliant and Rhys didn't know which one the painting crossed or even went near. If he was completely honest the whole thing looked like a collage of phalluses. 

But he couldn't say that. All the art critics in Velaris had been buzzing about this painting. There had to something he was missing.

Feyre walked over to Rhys and leaned on his side. He felt the usual twinge of contentment that came with her presence. “Hi.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Hi to you too. Are you having a good time?”

Feyre’s eyes lit up and Rhys felt a surge of joy through their bond. “Definitely. This is a beautiful collection. I’m glad that Feanna was able to get a piece in here.”

“Me too.” Feanna was a particularly shy member of the therapy art group that Feyre led. She had been as proud as any mother when the news had been announced. The whole group had come with them to celebrate. 

But Rhys had wanted a quick look around the gallery. He’d been meaning to visit this one but had never gotten around to it. So he took a break from the party to look around.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rhys could see one of the owners of the gallery approaching them. Tarrowan, Rhys remembered.

“How are you two enjoying our gallery?” he asked. 

“It's lovely.” Rhys nodded in agreement.

Tarrowan beamed. “I see you two have found the talk of Velaris!”  
“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Very true! Your student’s work is amazing.”

Feyre beamed. “I’ll tell her you said that.”

“Please do! We hope to see more of her work in the future. She is truly a gifted young lady.” Feyre’s proud smile grew. And you wonder why the art group calls you mom, sent Rhys. Feyre sent the equivalent of a fond eye roll through the bond in response. “But if I may ask, what do you too think of this one? What do you think it means?”

Rhys felt his stomach drop. He couldn't say that he saw a bunch of clumsy penises in front of his mate. Feyre was an artist, and even though she herself didn't use symbolism in her art, she liked the idea. One of her joys was learning about different techniques so she could experiment with them later. It had led to some fascinating discussions at dinner. 70% of Rhys’s art knowledge had come from those discussions. If anyone could find the meaning in this mess of color it was her. 

Time to bullshit this. “I think it's about aggression.” 

Tarrowan cocked his head. “Interesting takeaway. What makes you say that?”

Fuck he hadn’t thought this far ahead. Rhys sent up a quick prayer to the mother that bullshit could continue to carry him to the end. “The colors are very aggressive. And red is often used to signify rage in art, with it being the color of passion.” There, that sounded legit enough.

Tarrowan seemed to think so as well because he gave a thoughtful nod and turned to Feyre. “And you my lady?”

Feyre removed her head from Rhys’ shoulder to look more closely at the painting. “My guess is that it's about the artist's zest and passion for life based on the bright colors and the wild abandon with the placement of the shapes. Seeing as the whole thing is blended spectacularly, my guess is that it's all one big experience. The brushwork being a variety of styles seems to indicate that some parts of the experience are rough and others are smooth.”

Well damn that was way better than his. 

“I hadn't thought of that my lady!” Tarrowan exclaimed. A low cuckoo noise sounded in the room they were in, which Rhys knew was a signal from Tarrowan’s business partner. “Pardon me, I have to get back to the party.”

“We’ll be along in a moment.” Rhys wrapped one arm around Feyre and and made a shooing motion with his other hand. “You go on ahead.”

Tarrowan nodded and scurried off, still beaming.

Feyre smirked. “I can't believe he bought that. Yours was good too Rhys. What do you really think of it?”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” 

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Don't pull that with me Rhys. You’re good, but you can't fool me”. 

Rhys broke into a slow smile. This was the Feyre he knew and loved. “I think it looks like a bunch of dicks.”

Feyre started to cackle. “That was my first thought too. Why didn't you tell me through our bond?”

“I didn't want to sound….uneducated.”

“What a scandal that would cause.”

“It very well might.”

“Well I say it’s alright to not know everything. I still don’t know half the things I should as high lady.”

“I know.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and shoved his elbow playfully. “Smart-ass. But I’m serious, what’s the point in knowing everything? How else are we going to enjoy the future centuries? Art is subjective anyway, so why not have some fun?”

“You’re pretty cocky nobody will try and kill us for someone in a position of power, but that’s fair. As long as that fun doesn’t make us look like fools in front of people who will probably outlive us.””

Feyre smiled her huntress smile, all teeth and victory. “Oh I didn’t say that.”

Rhys probably shouldn’t have been so turned on by that. Mother, he loved his wife. “My apologies for putting words in your mouth, my lady. Perhaps later you will allow me to put something much bigger there.”

Feyre smirked. “Scoundrel.”

“Only for you darling.” 

“Somehow I doubt that.”

Rhys kissed Feyre’s cheek and felt a warm fondness through their bond. “You shouldn’t love. You really shouldn’t. Now let’s get back to the party so we can see more of Tarrowan and Feanna making eyes at each other.”

Feyre’s laughter echoed in the gallery as they went to rejoin their friends. Multicolored dicks on a canvas couldn’t compare to this, thought Rhys. Never in a million lifetimes.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is old y'all, but I crave validation so take it! And please leave a review I have no idea what I'm doing!


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